


Hey brother

by forgetful01



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sibling Incest, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 18:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10725012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetful01/pseuds/forgetful01
Summary: Kurloz contemplates his relationship with his Messiah of a younger brother- probably in the worst possible way.a wip that'd been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long. finally got around to finish it upay this marks my 60th work on here





	Hey brother

Gamzee Makara, your baby brother, means the world to you.  
No, that's incorrect. He is the world to you.

Nothing held meaning before Gamzee was born. Your father was a hardened man, far too gone in his less than reputable line of work to think much of family. But there was him, yourself, and your Grandfather. Your Grandfather was almost like an adopted parent in the sense that he did take strides to take care of you; but he lived so far away that the commute wasn't easy for him in his old age. As much as it pains you to think of it: you were lonely. You were lonely when your brother came into your life. That was your excuse.

He was a happy baby, always laughing or smiling at something. You liked to play 'bye bye' with him just to see him wave and cover his eyes, repeating the rhyme of 'Bye bye brother, I won't have another, or other, swear on my mother. Bye bye brother, it was fun to play, but now I gotta go away.'  
At the end of the rhyme he would fall into peals of laughter. This laughter would fill your chest, make your head spin. Your eyes would water with overwhelming emotion and you would pick Gamzee into your lap and whisper in his ear how you would never, ever leave him.

Gamzee was the prayer you had wanted answered. He brought a sense of purpose. He brought you life. He still does. And you sicken yourself to think of the way you slowly, gradually, took Gamzee's attention from a normal life to control all that he would give.

His first crush had been hard. He came home one day from school, going on and on about a boy who had moved into his class. A shy sort of boy with a tender disposition, you already somehow knew exactly what the boy was like. You could only sit, numb and trying to work away that sick and sticky feeling in your chest. You forced a smile. After all, you couldn't keep your baby brother all to yourself in all aspects of life. There were things in the world that you could- and should- never give him. But even as you told yourself this, you felt disgusted by the fact that the jealousy remained. That night you spent every hour until dawn praying for salvation from this blissful curse.

It didn't pass and your salvation never came.

Instead, you and Gamzee got older. And your beautiful baby brother grew and grew, his smiles pulled back to scowls. Your beautiful baby brother laughs in your face now when you ask for a kiss. Your beautiful baby brother broke your nose with one punch in three places just last week.

And now your baby brother is in the living room, feet up on the coffee table and blatantly ignoring his stack of dishes. You had asked for three days for him to wash them before you decided to give in. Now as you carefully stack them in your skeletal arms he barely gives you a glance. It’s alright though. You’ve come to accept this too. Any glare, any scowl, any insult he feels fit to spit at you are worth more than gold to you. You would put each one in a box and lock it away from the world if you could.

But Gamzee’s anger, much like how he used to love, is not particular to you. He lashes out whenever he can. Your father started calling him a ‘motherfucking terror’ and for that you nearly poisoned his drink that very night. How dare anybody, even your own flesh and blood, call your beautiful baby brother anything but the gift from the Gods that he is?

You clear your throat vaguely but his attention stays lingering on the screen. You two have played this game enough that you could quote the rules in your sleep. They went like this: Kurloz suffers. Have fun.

You try again, coughing a little more firmly and finally his dark eyes flick to you. The look nearly has you freezing in place. What a terrifying and wonderful person your baby brother grew up to be, much better and worse than anybody else could have suspected. You adore the very ground he spits on.

You gesture toward him with the dishes, trying to spur him into motion. He raises one of those thick eyebrows and gives you a flat look. One last weak cough and a pained look, which also goes ignored. 

“Loz if you want somethin’, why don’t you spit that noise out?”

Ah, another game. Probably one of his favorites. He had long taken to mocking your self imposed vow of silence. And at this rate, you don’t see an end in sight. It brings you unmatched shame and frustration to hear your brother talk to you that way, but you are nothing if not devout. You would never even think to question your brothers actions.

You shake your head instead and without a word, head to the kitchen. To your surprise he pushes himself up to follow. Normally you wouldn’t mind this at all but right now it’s grating on your nerves. You wish he would let you be. But no, no chance of that now. Not when he smells the weakness of your indecision in the air. You leave your back to him and move to the cabinet. You know there’s nothing in it that would strike your interest but you do it regardless. Pantomiming, they call it. Something just for show.

“Loz.” He says the one word like it’s a command and it has the desired effect as you turn to face him sharply and obediently. He’s grinning for all he’s worth like he knows he’s boxed you into a metaphorical corner and you can feel your hand shaking as it rests on the counter top. What was he doing now?

“Gimme a kiss.” Air leaves your chest as you deflate, tension leaving your body. Oh that one. You grimace at his words and turn away again. This was one of the more popular games. When he dangles himself in front of you and he knows you won’t act on your perverse ideals in some hope that will save you and Gamzee both from the damnation of forbidden lust and it makes everything so much worse. It’s the low hanging fruit concept. He’s the fox jumping and jumping for all he’s worth and Gamzee is the grapes you waste precious energy on only to find that, yet again, they are sour and beyond your reach. You loathe this game.

“Loz I said to gimme a kiss. Ain’t you hear?” Oh you heard him perfectly well. You stared hard at the pattern etched into the counter, like sparks of lightning crossing the sky with a flash and try to ease yourself back into your mind. Gamzee would grow bored of not having a reaction only to-

Something sharp and painful cracked against your ass! You whip around as though electrocuted and find him retracting his hand with that damn Cheshire like grin, the same one that he could use to nearly always get his way and you gape at him. “What? You was ignorin’ me.” You weren’t and he knows it. You palm over where the struck and give him a firm look. That had hurt, your eyes told him. His shrug replied that he didn’t care.

“Gimme a kiss.” He says again and you sigh tensely and slowly through your nose. With all of the willpower you can muster up you force your head to shake in denial. And the worst of it all is, he pouts. Your baby brother fucking pouts at you and makes you feel like the scum of the very earth because you can’t fulfill this one simple wish. But his disappointment doesn’t last long as he moves past you to the fridge. 

“Fine you stingy motherfucker, you be on that way.” A pardon, permission to leave. You practically bolt from the kitchen like a man possessed and rush to the seclusion of your room. Your curtain is still drawn and thank god for that, you wouldn’t have wanted to waste a single moment preventing any neighbors wandering eyes from a sight even you didn’t want to see. Your hand squirmed it’s way into the tight confines of your jeans and start up a frantic rhythm. 

At most you had two minutes. Just two precious minutes until Gamzee would come looking for you, ready for another round of pestering. The roughness of the pace and what little preparation you gave yourself brings stinging tears to the corner of your eyes and it hurts but Messiahs, you don’t stop. You can’t stop. This is something you deserve, something that is just as low and pathetic as you.

You imagine standing over your baby brother who’s spread out over your bed, you can hear the soft grunts he’d give in time to your thrusts, you can practically feel Gamzee’s heat over your body and you clamp a free hand over your mouth just in time. You can hear him stomping around in the kitchen and it’s the only sign he gives that time is running out. He knows what you’re doing in here. He knows it but he’d never bring it up. He doesn’t need to. The silent gloat of a smirk or a knowing shift of his eyes told you plenty. Gamzee found it amusing. He found everything about your sick devotion to him humorous. It was the fact that he could taunt you with it so effectively that had you choking on your breath and your head thumped back against the bedroom door. 

His name was on your lips, silently mouthed over and over like a desperate prayer to a god of old; one that would only shine attention onto you after giving up something precious in return. The heat over your body was worse now and your knees were practically knocking together before you fell to them, bent over with your head down as you pumped yourself feverishly. You could envision him standing over you as clearly as though it were happening and you saw his twisted grin. Just as you opened your mouth to plead something to him, something dark and sick you were done. It was over. You brought your head up and looked to the ceiling, sucking in large gasps of air between your chattering teeth.

You had made it in time. Gamzee had just walked past your door to the living room without a single sound to indicate he’d heard you. But you knew he had. Your gaze rolled down to the carpet where the evidence of your release was still visible. He knew how horrible you were.


End file.
